


Talk To Me

by Tari_Kancheewa



Series: A Series of Good Omens [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: ANGST!!, Angst Warning, Comfort, Demon, Demon needs love, HMCWTIYS, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts, angel - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-17 02:08:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28966596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tari_Kancheewa/pseuds/Tari_Kancheewa
Summary: Crowley wakes from a bad dream, he's been having a lot of those lately, he tires turns to his Mother - God, hoping that for the first time in 6000 years, She hears him, but all he gets is the one who made his life an eternal Hell - pun intended.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: A Series of Good Omens [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2096553
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	Talk To Me

**Author's Note:**

> This is a promt for the #hmcwtiys created by usedtobehmc. It's the first picture to be shown, this inspiration hit me as soon as I saw it!!

_Sounds, nothing but sounds; loud sounds, quiet sounds, good sounds, bad sounds. Smells, wet feathers, sweat, blood, tears, venom.  
Crowley looked around him, his sword glistening with the golden blood of the many angels he had slain. Many of his fellow demons were dead - not discorporated, but well and truly **dead**.   
He heard the cries of an angel coming towards him, flaming sword met flaming sword as Crowley defended himself. There was a slash and the sensation of white hot pain across his chest, giving a cry, he fell to his knees and awaited the final blow.... "Crowley..." a muffled sound came from somewhere above him._

Crowley's serpentine eyes flew open and he launched himself at the figure stood over him, knocking them both to the ground.   
He gave a deadly hiss and made to squeeze the ethereal life force from this blessed angel, "Cr-Crow-ley!" the voice choked, a hand reached out to cup his face, soft fingers caressed the skin under his eyes, "it's... m-me... it's... Az-zira-ph-phale!" Crowley's mind came to a sudden stop, he knew that voice, "it's o-okay... dear Cro-owley..." 

"Shit!" Crowley leapt away from the Angel beneath him, "shit, shitshitshit, _shit_! Azriaphale I'm _so_ sorry!" He felt something pull him close, catching the scent of musty of books and freshly baked sponge cake, the Snake-demon clutched to his beloved Angel as a castaway clings to a piece of driftwood.

"There, there, my love," Aziraphale's voice was a silky as ever, as though Crowley had not just tried to choke the life out of him, "it's alright, now. I'm alright and you are safe. Shh, shhh." he felt himself rocking back a forth.

What seemed like moments later, the rocking stopped. Crowley opened his eyes to find himself back in bed, tucked up tight like a child, it was morning and Crowley could smell fresh coffee wafting from downstairs in his Angel's bookshop.  
"What is Satan's name did I do?" 

Crowley wasn't the self-conscious type, he also wasn't the guilty type, but no matter what he did, or what he said; if it was aimed at Aziraphale, Crowley _always_ took it back.  
He tucked his knees under his chin, the echoes of his nightmare haunting his waking seconds. This was the the fifteenth night on on the trot he had suffered with lucid dreams, each on of his defiling, mutilating, killing or torturing angels.   
His so-called glory days of the Celestial Wars.   
He rubbed his chest, the age-old scar that would forever lie on his Earth-bound corporation, throbbed.   
He was a Demon, he didn't suffer with mental illnesses like humans.   
_Then why are you crying?_ he thought, wiping away the stray tear.

There was a soft knock at the door and an equally soft voice that followed, "Crowley? My dear, are you awake?" 

"Yeah, Angel." he replied, getting up and dressing with a snap of his fingers, leaving his sunglasses on the night stand. 

For every nightmare, there had been Aziraphale. He had been there to wake Crowley ever since they had started fifteen days ago. "Feel better?" The Angel asked.

Crowley shook his head, "I won't lie to you, Aziraphale." two steaming mugs of coffee were placed and Aziraphale stood in front of Crowley.

"Tell me?" 

**Tell the Angel you are weakening! Pathetic Demon that you are!**

Crowley crashed to his knees clutching his head as the voice of the Devil himself screamed. "I can't!" he whimpered, "I'm not strong enough for this, Angel!" 

"Crowley, that is _not_ true! You are stronger than your inner demons - pun intended. Oh Crowley, no, _wait_!" 

Crowley spread wings as black as the never-ending reaches of the cosmos and took off out of the door to the bookshop, up into the clouds as away from Soho, away from London, away from Aziraphale.  
 **Yes, _run_ Crowley, run away so you cannot hurt him.** the voice began to laugh, **you are one of my greatest warriors, you will never be free from the blood you spilled that day.**

Crowley soon found himself at a cliffside, Dover, he was in Dover at the White Cliffs.  
"Mother..." Crowley whispered, "Mother.... God! Please, I know I am one of his Demons, but please," he fell to his knees, "please help me. My body is heavy and my mind in heavier still! I just want to be free of the guilt and I...." he looked at his hands, " I _never_ want to lay a hand on my beloved Aziraphale again!" he knelt there, looking up at the sky, storm clouds were rolling in, the waves below him were getting steeper by the second, yet still he received no answer.   
He stood up, angry with his Mother, letting out all of his anger and frustration in one long painful scream.  
 **Hahah ha!** the Devil laughed, **you see, Crowley? She doesn't care for you! But I do,** Crowley felt a presence behind him, a dark, cold and evil presence; Satan himself was making a house-call. **Walk off this cliff, my brutal demon, and all your pain and suffering on the Earth will end!** Satan moved in front of Crowley, like a spectre he floated over the ocean, extending his arms in welcome. **Come to me, my Crowley.**

Satan hovered higher, Crowley's eyes followed him, his neck craning to see him, "just one step," he breathed, "just one step and I'll never harm my Angel again..." Crowley took a step, the toes of his shoe hung off the edge, "just one more..." 

**Yes, Crowley, just one more step!**

"NO!" A strong arm coiled around Crowley's waist, another soft, but equally strong hand, cupped his forehead, "Begone from here, Satan! Crowley is no longer yours to toy with!" 

**Foolish Principality!** Satan snapped, Crowley saw white feathers blow in the wind, **he will _always_ be mine!**

"Not anymore!" Crowley couldn't move, but he felt Aziraphale's head in the crook of his neck, could tell from the trembling in the hand on his head that his eyes were closed, that he was looking away, "Holy Mother of us all, give me the strength to send the Devil away!" Aziraphale prayed, "give me the strength to save the one who matters most to me!" 

Crowley felt a white hot pain shoot up his spine, for all of a second, before he watched the Devil himself disappear in a flash with a scream.   
He felt the weight of Aziraphale pull him backwards, his Angel was tired, those pristine white wings fell limp.   
"Angel?"

"Don't ever run away from me, again, Crowley." Aziraphale scolded, a smile on that cherubim face, "I am an angel, it is my job to heal those who are in pain, physically, mentally and emotionally." Aziraphale crawled over to cup Crowley's face in his hands, kissing him deeply. "I am here for you, my Wily Serpent, talk to me." 

Crowley held his angel lose and tight, "thank you, Aziraphale."


End file.
